Know Me
by Katrina Marie Lupin
Summary: Jack had always wondered what it would be like to bed a Moor. He gets a chance, in the lady Dalma.


"Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants," she purred, her eyes glistening. She knew. Oh, she knew too well.

"But I do..." he replied, the words hard to come by, his eyelids drooping with something other than drink. "I do know what I want." The dim lights of the room made her dark skin glow like gold, and she was precious - like African gold, although he wouldn't say her value was monetary.

"Do you?" she asked, her mouth open in an expression akin to amusement. It was strangely erotic, and yet, everything about her seemed to be so. The way the yellowish light highlighted the curves of her bust, trailed the slender line of her neck, accented her round face, shined in her dark eyes.

"I do..." he answered. He could hear his own breath becoming heavy, the garments that lay between his skin and hers far too much. He knew very much what he wanted.

"And what do you want?" she asked, her voice lilting in a delicious way, her accent that of the people she'd come from.

"I want..." he started, the words still not coming. He felt a sigh escape his lips. He wanted these garments away from her - him - them. He wanted a bed, and peace. He wanted silence, so he could best hear the sounds she would make. "I want to know..." He wanted to know every contour of her body, wanted to know how many kisses and caresses it took to travel from the hair on top of her head to the hair that guarded her womb. He wanted to know the length of every limb, he wanted to know how many shades difference there was between their skin. He wanted to know how it felt to be inside her, whether she screamed or moaned or whimpered. He wanted to know if she would call out his name, call out to some indigenous god, or if she would be beyond any intelligible language. He wanted to know what a well placed hand could do - would she tremble in his grasp? How far could her back arch? He wanted to know how long those nails truly were, and how deep she'd entangle them in his flesh, and how long her marks would stay. Was she a gentle lover, or was she a viscious beast? Would she endure his explorings of her body, or would she torture him as well? How long would her stamina last? Would she be strong through to the morning, or would her fragile form succumb so soon? He wanted to know how long one had to be in contact with her skin before the soot rubbed off.

He was certain that neither of them had moved, and yet, he was also certain, she had not been that close before. A delicate hand reached out to her perfectly sculpted ear, and with light fingers, he brushed her greasy mane from her face. She closed her eyes to the touch, as his fingers traced the outline of the extremity. How would it taste? Would it be like chocolate, or smoke? How would she react as he tugged at the fixture with his teeth, testing out her reactions?

His hand caressed her warm skin, and his hand traveled down to her throat. There was a crook, there, in between the bone of her shoulder and the bone of her neck, a perfect spot where he could slide his tongue, and taste her flesh, teasing her with bitings and suckings. Would she moan or growl? Where would her hands go? Would she hold him close? Reach for his own tool? Dig her nails into his arm? His back? Entwine her fingers in his own mane?

His eyes fluttered back to her lips.

"Do you want to know me?" she asked. He wondered for a moment if there was a succubine spell hidden within her words, but decided that he didn't much care.

"I do want to know you," he answered, looking into those dark eyes, her teeth peeking out from beneath her black lips, pulled back in a seductive smile. He felt his own jaw lower as he slowly drew nearer. A habit he'd picked up when doing these sorts of things. It gave the lass a chance to change her mind. He hated an unwilling participant. It was much better for all when things were made perfectly clear.

Not for the first time, his lips were met with another set, and he closed his mouth to accomodate her small mouth's size. Her lips were soft, but the taste of grease and smoke and the spices of her homeland's cuisine filled his mouth, and he took it all. The hand that had been at her neck wrapped itself about, resting at the nape of her neck, the greasy waves covering it like a black blanket. His other hand found her corset and drifted to the back, finding the cords that bound it, and venturing lower until the firm material made way for her soft blanket, beneath it the blossom of her beautifully rounded arse.

As she took his lips hungrily, her hands entwined in the fabrics that hung about his torso, sliding in under the jacket, playing amongst the folds of his shirt. As his hand gave his a squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighed into her, she gave a pleased hum that was both appreciative of his attentions as well as amused by his choice of first touches. When she pulled away, his eyes were still closed, though his grip was loose enough that she didn't feel him fight back. She looked up at him with a smile, as he opened his eyes, looking up almost drunkenly at the fixtures on the ceiling - a jar of some jellied substance, and a sack of what looked like an onion or something similar - and then down at her freckled face.

"Would you like to know me better, Jack?" she asked, laughter in her broad smile.

"I do want to know you better," he answered, nodding softly as he spoke. He was a very honest man, though one rarely believed him. She cocked her head at him, smiling, and the hand still at her neck thumbed at the beautiful ebony line.

"Then come wit me, Jack," she said, pulling away from him, turning so that his hand came off her bum, but she kept a soft grip on the arm that was at her neck. She was gentle, so that, as she led him away, her hand slid down to his wrist, and he was sure he was being led, not taken, to the stair that was nearly hidden by her collection of odd things. The thought floated across his mind that he had a crew that he should be worried about, probably outside waiting anxiously for him to finish his business so they could just be out of there, but at the moment, he didn't care. Useless lot of superstitious pirates. Gibbs in particular. Who cared what they thought anyway?

She smiled at him temptingly as she circled the end of the banister, and began to climb the stairs, one hand on the wall, the other on his wrist. He smiled in return, sure he looked rather foolish, but she obviously didn't mind his odd charm. As she reached the top, she turned back to the room she'd entered, and waited for him to join her, sliding her fingers into his as he joined her.

There, hiding beneath majestically coloured tapestries and cloths and a few other choice collectables was a very nice sized sleeping spot, the sheets appearing to be silken in nature, and Jack was unsure if his jaw was not hanging open.

"Come wit me, Jack," Tia Dalma said again, smiling at him, twisting her hand to hold his fingers as her other hand did the same, walking backwards toward the bed. "Come know me better."

With the scarcest nod, he followed, his feet knowing where to go. When they'd reached the bed, they paused, but his hands continued, sliding immediately to her corset as his lips once more met hers. As she again took him hungrily, her hands slid up his chest, her fingers tracing beneath the cloth up to his neck, both trailing up to his ears and threading into his hair. His fingers frantically searched the bodice until the found that she had only the one set of strings, and then ventured up and down her spine, searching for the knot. He could feel her smile at his adventurings, as she slid one hand to the top of his hat.

She drew back for a moment, clearly enjoying this. "Mind if I remove your hat, Jack?" she asked, a minx if ever there was one.

At mention of the hat, though, he paused, his hands resting on the knot. He realised his hips were touching hers - layers of clothing not withstanding - and that he was very much enjoying this. He searched her face, and she seemed amused at his hesitation. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and then he nodded, taking one of his own hands and plucking off the hat himself. He spun about and quickly searched behind him for a place on the bedside table - ah, yes, there was one - but good Lord, she had a great deal of things on it. Where to put it? None of the jars seemed to hold something that wasn't of a very powerful smell, and yet, not unpleasant smelling. Still, a hat had to smell of sweat and man, and not some pickled spice. He decided, the hell with it, and tossed it on something that looked akin to a small bird cage, though there was nothing inside it. Satisfied, he turned back to Tia Dalma, a proud grin on his face. Her own face shone with amusement, and he opened his mouth to continue, but changed his mind at the last moment, dropping his head down, he nuzzled her chin up, and then reached toward that beautiful neck of hers, gently touching the warm, dark skin with his lips, and then wrapping them around it, his fingers having found the knot and now working on undoing it. Her hands slipped once more inside his coat, but ventured around to his back, her fingers trailing up his spine as he gently bit down.

"Oh, Jack..." he muttered, the want in her voice turning the siren's song husky, and he moved his mouth slightly before biting down again, this time shaking his head a bit, tugging. Her hips pushed forward, and one hand reached down to hold her arse once more, as the other held on to the string. Her fingers clawed into his shirt as he gave a squeeze, and tugged at the knot, feeling its release as her face met his shoulder. He began to nuzzle his neck, planting soft kisses against the burnt flesh, both of his hands returning to the strings. Her fingers no longer clawed, but lingered, caressing up and down as she rested her head against his as he continued. He undid the first set of grommets without remark, but for the second one, he heard her give a gasp.

He nuzzled his nose up her neck, slipping to behind her ear so he could give it a teasing lick as he went by, and she moved her head back to take his kiss. Her eyes were dark with want, and he felt a smile tug at his lips as his fingers continued their work, hooking under the once taut string and pulling it back through the grommet. She gave another small sigh, and he moved his lips towards her ear. She closed her eyes as she moved to accompany his change, and he smiled, thinking she probably thought he would continue his bitings there. It was tempting, but he had another idea at the moment.

"Turn around," he whispered. She inhaled at the feel of his breath on her wet ear, and dazedly obeyed. When she was fully turned about, he saw that there was still a long way to go. The word Singapore floated through his mind as a fiendish grin came across his face.

"Do you much like this string?" he asked, almost conversationally. The pause before her respond, and the confusion in her voice gave a hint that the question had made her frown.

"Not particularly, why?" It sounded much more alluring than any other similar reply he'd ever recieved, but then, he figured that was probably her voodoo magic at work.

"Because of this," he answered. He took the knife he'd pulled out of his pocket and, with a practised hand, drew it right through every last string, breaking it at once. The gasping moan she'd given - known commonly as a bodice-gasm - sent a thrilling shiver down his spine as he replaced the knife, and carefully peeled the limitation from her exquisite form. As was common after such an act, she swallowed mouthfuls of air, her chest rising with its newfound freedom and her hands moving to caress her sides, only just remembering the ache there.

As she turned back to him, panting slightly, his grin grew wider.

However, before he could make a clever and witty comment, like he usually would to further sweep a girl off her feet, Tia Dalma took his shirt in her hands and pulled him to her. Her kiss was far more hungry now, less taken to civilities, as her tongue reached in a searched him. The feel of her unguarded bosom against him was very alluring, and his hand ventured once more to her arse, squeezing and pulling her close, while the other traveled up her spine, tracing the contours of this African beauty.

He tucked a hand underneath one knee, and lifted her just enough to lay her on the bed, bringing himself on top of her. As they kissed, his own tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth, now, his one hand held her at the waist, his fingers caressing the small of her back, while the other slid down her leg to the end of her garment, reaching the naked skin down at her ankle. They parted for breath as he slipped his hand beneath the garment and pushed it all the way up, his hand wrapping around her dark limb, and as his fingers caressed up her thigh, her eyes closed with a small sigh. He smiled to himself, licking his lips as he watched her heady reactions. When he reached her waist, he slid his hand beneath her bum, and quickly moved his other hand to the other side. He got a good grip of the skirt, and tugged, releasing it from the folds of her chemise. She gave a small grunt from his forcefulness, and he grinned once more.

"I tink Jack Sparrow does know what he wants," she noted, smiling as she watched him discard her skirt.

"I do, that's what I've been saying all along," he replied easily with a nod as he shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on top. He slid back onto the bed, gliding over her dark legs and sliding his hands from her knees down to her sides, and under the pretty chemise. He slid it up as he had done with the skirt, tucking his hands behind her back, and lifting it over her head, kissing from her navel up as he went. When he'd taken off the shirt, he was at her face once more, and he gave her a tender kiss as he tossed the shirt away and her own hands came down to his collar. As they kissed, she gave a pleased sigh as her legs came to wrap around him. The feel of her legs made his rock against her, and she gave a startled gasp before looking down at him. They both looked down at his body, and one dark hand twisted toward the dark garment, where it pulled out a gun from his waist. She held it up accusingly, and he grinned.

"Sorry, love," he answered, taking it back and tossing it behind him. There was the sound of shattering glass, but she couldn't say anything about it, because his lips had captured hers once more.

Her hands returned to his sash, and slowly found the knot, untying it absently. The slow movements so near to his tool were rather arousing, and he moved his hands up and down her sides, memorising every contour of her body, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth. She had that heady expression on her face as he rocked against her, tasting her mouth and touching her body. Finally, she released the sash, and pulled it away. He gave her a congratulatory smile, and moved down to her neck.

As he continued his biting explorations, her hands wrapped about him to his back, pulling at the cloth, tugging it up, little by little. His hands ventured all over, but he kept to her sides and her legs, coming temptingly close, but not touching her there. Not yet. Her pleasureable sighs seemed to take on a huskier, more irritated sense every time he did this, and it only made him smile a little more.

When at last she had his shirt high enough, he, too, cooperated, letting her pull the ivory shirt from him. As it fell behind her head, he grinned at the contrast, particularly against the golds and reds of her bed, and the black night of her hair. She tossed the garment towards the rest, and he returned to her lips for another tender kiss.

His one hand still at her side, venturing from her shoulder, tracing his fingers lightly against the curve of her neck, down, following the contours of her back, to the waist of her dark body, round the bum and down her legs, his fingers wrapping around the limb, his fingers so close to where she so desperately wanted to be touched, down to those thin ankles and those well worn feet. His hands lingered every where but where she wanted them, and that she was enduring his torment was an interesting thing. His other hand moved to her face, tracing her neckline, and the back of her head, entwining in the black mane, his thumb a stark contrast against her sharp cheekbone, touching lightly against her ear lobe. They paused for a breath as he looked down at her, her own face twisted in a small, seductive smile, her eyes glittering with something other than the light. As he opened his mouth to go down once more, the breath caught in his throat. Below, her hands had been venturing about the hem of his garment, particularly on the sides, but now, one went deep in the front. With a shuddering groan, he pressed into her teasing hand, and he could hear her laugh lightly, but it was a bed kind of laugh - it seemed more like a sigh, and an appreciation of the reaction than the humurous variety.

"Jack..." she called, teasingly, as she stroked her fingers down his length. He could feel himself pulse underneath her touch, and his body moved into her hand, without any need of coercing from him. He kissed her fervently, once more rocking against her, the hand at her side moving to lift that leg, while the other ventured down to do the thing she wanted most. When she knew at last his hand would go there, she closed her eyes and lay her head back, her thick, red tongue resting on her lips as she awaited his touch. It was a flurry of fingertips as it ventured down her tummy, and when they found her slick entrance, he looked up at her to see her reaction. He took one finger and slid it under, and amongst the lips, and she gave out a deep sigh, her head rocking to the side. He slid it up and down, feeling himself harden at how absolutely dripping she was.

"Jack..." she called again, but this time, it was a begging moan. He felt his breath catch in his throat at that, and flipped his hand to venture her with a thumb. He traveled higher until he found the magic button, and when he gave it a tweak, she gave out a gasping cry that sent shivers down his spine. He gave it a good shake, and she moaned and squirmed, and his lit up with desire. He continued, and her back arched high, her bosom rolling apart as her head rised from the bed, her hands snaking out on either side, grasping for who knew what. He stopped, and she fell down again, her hands snaking towards him. He did it again, and once more, she arched up in that gasping cry, her eyes closed and her mouth agape as waves of pleasure flooded through her body. Jack, too, gave out a heavy sigh as he smiled, his own mouth open and gaping as he took in her glorious form. When he removed himself, she gave out a desperate cry, but before she could compose herself to look and investigate the rumpling and two soft thuds she heard, he'd returned, and she could feel his naked skin against her own, hot and smooth, but most importantly, she could feel his tool resting against her leg.

She gave out a hiss of a moan at the sensation, and one hand drew to the small of her back, pulling her hips against his as he rubbed his tool against her, and then the other returned to her entrance, where another finger slid between her lips, and ventured to tease at her button as before. She arched again, and the hand at her back rose up to trace the contour - so he'd never forget the shape she made. He leaned over her, and took her mouth in his, gaping as it was. She moaned at his persistence, but made no move to defer him. His hand memorised the feel of her curve, and the moved to join the other, and slid a finger in.

Her gasp was wonderful, even as she broke away. Jack looked down at her with a pleased smile, pumping lightly. She whimpered and squirmed at his touches, and then he retreated and came back with two fingers. Another gasp, and she moaned at his attentions, her hips rocking into him, her body moving languidly. The fingers not inside her rested on her glorious arse, and he wondered at this dark beauty, taking in her facial and bodily reactions with desire. She would be a favourite of his, that was for sure. When he removed his fingers, she gave a whimper of disappointment, but then she felt him move his legs underneath hers, and could feel his tool at her entrance. Lessening his torture from relentless bothering to caressing, he brought his head to her entrance and teased, rubbing and rocking against her. She moaned, and gave pleading sounds, as her hands moved from where they had been twisting the sheets to find his arms, strong and lean. She grasped at them, even as he pressed against her, and she gasped at the promise of his entrance, until he rocked away, still touching, but not entering.

As he watched her, taking all of her in with his greedy eyes, smiling at her wonderful sounds, he got the impression that she was losing her patience with him, as her expression went from pleasantly tortured, to decidedly agitated. Deciding to take things up a notch, he returned to his relentless bothering, and inserted the tip of himself, earning a gasping moan, and a shadow of a smile to return to her lips. But, he slid back out. Before she could retort, he did it again, and again.

Apparently, she liked this torment a bit more, as she rocked with him, the growling expression no longer returning, as she enjoyed his entrance and retreat. The still bothering finger made her shudder as she did so, and she was beginning to quake. Deciding he couldn't stand it much longer, Jack penetrated deeply, and the gasp and moan she gave was absolutely delicious. She groaned as she took him into her, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her tight muscles around him. He let her moaning surround him he brought her hips toward him, plunging deep inside. While she basked in the glories of his long awaited presence, he decided on one last trick he had up his... well, sleeve. Granted, he didn't have on a sleeve at the moment, but he doubted she'd be worried about that sort of thing at the moment. He took her ankles in his hands and moved them up to his shoulders, changing the angle in which he entered slightly, and pulled out most of himself, and then plunged back in.

The gasp she gave out was tremendous. He wondered if, behind those closed lids, she was seeing stars as he pulled out and plunged in again. He moved his hands back up the length of her as he thrust in and out, picking up speed and momentum, as he brought himself deeper and deeper inside, his hands venturing at last to those ebony breasts, tweaking those hard points, causing her more pleasure and torment, and kneading them as their bodies moved together. Her hands held tight to his arms, as if she was afraid to let him go, even as the force of his movements tossed her back and forth on the bed. With every thrust, she gave out a guttural groan, and the sounds drove him mad, as he took started to grunt and groan under the sensations of her body tightening around him.

"Oh, Jack..." she whispered, her voice thick with passion and gratitude. "Oh, Jack..."

The sound of his own name, made him go faster - something he was unaware he could do - as he kept going deeper and deeper and -

Here it comes!

He grasped her hips and pulled them towards him as he gave his last thrust, and then, blessed release! She gave a long, shuddering moan at the feel of his seed inside her, and he could at last hear his own breath, fast and panting, as he shook once, twice, three times as his body bathed itself in the high. Below him, Tia Dalma gave out another moan, and Jack gave a shudder...


End file.
